Did he rarely re-record pieces because he felt they could not be improved
on, or was it just a way to protect himself from chasing perfection. As an
example of this, I will give an example extra-Gould, in that it was not him,
but another perfectionist whom I witnessed do the following: there was an
essay to write, and it's deadline was the next day. This man sat on his
computer, and wrote the first sentence; he thought he could do better, so he
re-wrote it. Three hours later, I visited him again, and he still hadn't
proceeded past the first sentence. I suggested that he shut off his monitor,
so that he couldn't re-read his sentences. After, this, he got along very
well, and had the 2000 word essay finished in half an hour. If each of the
sentences he wrote could be compared to each recording of Glenn Gould's,
this examples applies itself very neatly. It is not a question whether or
not he listened to his old recordings; I have no doubt that he did. But by
shutting off his mental "monitor" he could create a mental cocoon (to use
his own terminology) to protect himself from the chase of perfection. I am
certain that his interpretations stemmed from tangible thoughts, yet how
tangible were they a few minutes after the recording was finished?
What is tangible, is that Glenn Gould knew how much work he wanted to do,
and he knew that his whole life was needed to do it. In order to protect
himself from dwelling too long on a task, and thereby reducing the amount of
work he could do, he did not re-record too often.
I have no doubt that he was completely satisfied with his recordings, but it
cannot be said that he thought them perfect.
I still seem to be at variance with some opinions, but am still enjoying
this discussion immensly,
Singh

A human?s inability to possess absolute motor control is a given, and I
cannot
imagine what 100% control would exactly entail (maybe he/she would sound
like a
Disklavier Pro?). Regardless, no one doubts that GG understood this as
well,
but how then does one separate musical conception apart from execution?
Surely, Gould?s musical ideas sprang from something tangible. Much like my
conception of Bach on piano has become over the years inextricably tied to
Gould?s recordings, I suppose that Gould?s own conceptions of Bach were
likewise rooted somewhere. However, unlike my personal desire to realize
the
Gouldian Bach in my personal playing (influenced by my own ideas as well),
it
never appeared that GG was chasing any other ideal apart from his own. His
habit of rarely visiting pieces after recording them can be taken as
evidence
that he was generally content with his results?and the rare occasion of his
having to re-record a piece presents us with an instance where his new
performance actually reflects a shift in paradigm (in the case of the
Goldbergs, something not unexpected since the two versions were 26 years
apart). One of Gould?s greatest eccentricities was his remarkable
rigidity?his
resistance to change. I speculate that re-recording the Goldbergs must
have
been a tormenting decision to make, for it may have been equivalent to a
confession of being wrong. As irrelevant as I believe this hypothetical to
be,
I?d like to propose that if Gould were around today, he?d likely have no
part in
even touching the 1955 Goldbergs. If he had, it would have served only to
affirm the legitimacy of that recording, a legitimacy that he voided (to
himself, at least) in 1981.
I realize that this last position is rather extreme, but it?s nonetheless
interesting to think about.